


Past Tense

by Miso



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989)
Genre: M/M, i apologize wholeheartedly tbqh, post-movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The possessions of the recently deceased can be painful for those left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Tense

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY. Set in the not-too-distant future. Another one where Egon passed away and poor Ray is left picking up the pieces. Poor baby, I'm so mean to him :c Elwood, Harry, and Frankie are Elwood Blues, Harry Sultenfuss from My Girl, and Grocer from Grosse Pointe Blank, all other Dan Aykroyd roles I like to think are cousins of Ray's.

Sometimes, at night, when he couldn't sleep, Ray would throw on Egon's old robe- the silly one, the same shade as a fine burgundy wine, with the faux fur trim and the golden monogrammed E.S. that Peter bought him as a joke gift one Hanukkah and Egon kept because it was warm- and go through his things. He never put anything anywhere Egon wouldn't have wanted it. Sometimes it was just nice to go through and relive it all.

Like how their uniforms were all ruined when Stay-Puft exploded, so they had to get new ones, but Egon hung on to his for "scientific" purposes. The three-decade-old supernatural marshmallow residue was still sticky, and retained the smell of burnt marshmallow and smoke.

Like how Ray would sit and play with loose threads in Egon's knit sweater vests and touch their soft surfaces and Egon wouldn't mind a bit because for how much he hated to be touched, he loved his sunshine so much more.

Like how he wore the same glasses from 1980 up to his death, with the silver titanium rims and thick lenses that had to be shaved down to fit in his frames. He always looked so handsome with them on. They were dignified. Scholarly. Everything Egon was.

Was.

Past tense.

No longer.

Dead and buried.

Ray gently set Egon's glasses down on the nightstand on what was once Egon's side of the bed. It had been a particularly difficult night. Hell, it had been a difficult year. The apartment was quiet and dark. Ray didn't really know how to tend to Egon's mushroom specimens the way Egon had, and most of them had died not long after their owner. Of course, fungi had a short life span anyway.

Short wasn't a word Ray could logically use to describe Egon's life. It had lasted over 70 years. Some people would have killed to last that long. It didn't feel long enough to him, though. They had only had 37 years. It wasn't as long as it should have been. Ray had been planning since their 35th anniversary what to do when they hit 40 years.

And now 40 wasn't coming.

He felt like his life had gone from something normal to a black void. He wasn't interested in anything he would have thrown himself headlong into as a younger person. The new kids had called to ask him about a problem with Ecto-1 and he'd just given them a number for a professional mechanic. Ecto-1 was his baby, and he couldn't bring himself to nurse her back to health. How could he help someone or something he held dear when he couldn't help himself?

The worst feeling was the guilt. The gnawing, chewing, all-encompassing guilt. The what-ifs and the should've-would've-could'ves that ate at Ray's brain and heart and soul and drained him of what youth he had remaining. It was hell. Living, breathing hell, and there was nothing he could do to escape it.

Ray picked up his phone and looked at his missed texts. There were plenty of them.

"It's been a while since we heard from you. Dad's worried. You alright?" From Winston's son Ian.

"pick up ur fuckin phone asshole im worried sick" From Peter.

"Call me asap Jake thinks your dead" From cousin Elwood.

"I'm not interested in being my cousin's undertaker, answer me already" From cousin Harry.

"If you arent dead I'm gonna come up there and kill you myself for worrying all of us like this." Frankie Grocer. Cousin Frankie had always been a nut.

He set his phone back down and reached for Dopey Dog in the tangled mess of sheets. He couldn't bring himself to answer. Some of those texts were weeks old. He was sure they would be busting down his door if they really, honestly thought he was dead. Oscar or somebody had to have told them he wasn't.

Ray tucked his old stuffed companion under his chin and buried his nose in the raggedy dog's fabric. Dopey was about the only company he had anymore. He didn't mind it most of the time. Dopey had soaked up so many tears over the course of 73 years, a few more wouldn't change anything. But it was nights like this that he craved human love and affection.

But not from Peter, or Winston, or his cousins. He wanted his Egie. He wanted scratchy kisses and a low, raspy "Good morning, sunshine" when he woke up. He wanted to be wrapped in deceptively strong arms and tucked into a warm chest and soothed into slumber. He wanted somebody to hold him and love him and chase away the darkness when he had one of his endless chronic nightmares.

But most of all he just wanted to hear "I love you" one last time. It was always magical to hear Egon affirm his love. It never felt real. He spent the entirety of college desperate for Egon to notice him, just look at him and acknowledge his feelings, and then it finally happened and everything felt like a dream.

And then the dream ended, and he was thrust back into a world that didn't give a shit and never, ever would. Every now and then, sitting on the bed, Ray could hear passing cars on the streets of Manhattan below honking, and people would occasionally shout at each other. Life just carried on as normal. How could they all just carry on like nothing happened when to him it felt like the world had stopped turning?

Maybe it had and he didn't know it yet. Maybe he was the one that was dead, and this was Hell. It certainly felt like it.

Tears finally stung his eyes and Ray sobbed quietly, burying his face in Dopey Dog. What he wouldn't give for Dopey to be Egon in that moment, for patches on patches and dirty fake plush fur to be the soft flannel of Egon's pajamas as he sobbed into his chest.

His throat felt like it could close in on itself, and a heavy weight settled in his chest. The dread, the anger, the bone-deep sorrow was starting to take him over again. It was almost welcome. At least when the sadness numbed him to everything else he could focus on one emotion. And then when he became numb to the sadness he could almost manage to get something done.

But it never lasted long. It always came crashing back down atop him like a tsunami of icy cold water, shocking him back into reality and forcing him back into hiding. Wracked with sobs like he hadn't cried since Egon's funeral, Ray curled into the fetal position and held Dopey tight, bawling like he was again a little child who couldn't find his mother.

Through a blur of tears, Ray could see the clock read 5:20 when he had finally cried himself out. The sun was going to peek over the eastern horizon soon. Another day alone with no one to blame for it but himself. If he'd encouraged Egon to get to a hospital sooner, maybe the infection wouldn't have weakened him so much and earned him a case of vasculitis that left him in a wheelchair. Maybe he wouldn't have been in such severe physical and mental anguish for the last year of his life. Maybe he wouldn't have had a stroke that left him unable to speak or recognize his lifelong partner.

Maybe he wouldn't be gone right now.

The tears caught a second wind. Ray curled in on himself again and sobbed, trembling so violently he could hear the bed shaking with him, white-knuckling his beloved stuffed animal and crying so helplessly he felt as though any second the Reaper could arrive for him, too, stopping his aching, wildly- pounding heart and stealing what breath he could take in.

The first sun rays were peeking in through the curtains when Ray finally cried himself back to sleep. The black embrace of sleep took him under, fading him back to his youth, back to being an entrepreneur with a dream, Egon by his side.

It was better than facing the hell of being awake.


End file.
